


The Morning After

by girlintheglen



Series: Illya's Days of April [9]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-22 22:29:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11389722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlintheglen/pseuds/girlintheglen





	The Morning After

  


 

 

The day after.  What transpired during the previous night was now a stark reality, and April Dancer awoke with a lump in her throat that wasn’t likely to go away. 

Illya was still sleeping as April slid silently from their bed.

 

The bed.

 

 “Oh Illya, what have we done?”  In the moment it had all seemed so right, as though nothing should stand in the way of their shared ardor; they had both been in denial of the probable consequences of yielding to that frenzied attraction.  It was what she had dreamed of, hoped for... Why was she less sure now than before? 

She decided to make some coffee and then shower before Illya got up.  She needed to be dressed and ... She was making plans to not be so available for Illya’s overtures, assuming he might make some.  April didn’t know how she was going to live with this man for an undetermined amount of time and avoid...

Avoid Illya.  Why did she want to avoid him?  She had been transported last night, like nothing else she’d ever experienced.  He was an ideal lover, beautiful in his way and so very thoughtful.  What was wrong with her?

Illya stirred, rolling onto his back as he began to wake up.  April looked at him, pale skin and so spare in his build; the blond hair was spiked up from sleeping.  She had to smile, he looked more like a young boy right now than the assertive lover he had been last night.

April poured her coffee and contemplated making Illya a cup of tea.  ‘Better not, I don’t have a clue how to get it right.’  As though reading her mind, Illya sat up, leaning back against the headboard with his hands above his head.

‘‘Are you fixing tea as well or just your coffee?”  The sound of his voice brought goosebumps on her flesh.  Why did he have to be so...so... ?  Not giving in again was going to be so difficult.

“No darling, I’m afraid to try and make tea for an expert.  You’ll have to give me lessons.”  That was met by a small chuckle as Illya climbed out of bed.  He was still naked, and April thought she might just as well say ‘uncle’ right now.  It was hopeless trying to resist this man.  Thankfully he turned and headed to the bathroom, picking up a pair of jeans on the way.  April heaved a sigh of relief; that meant he wasn’t going to try and seduce her.  At least she hoped that was what it meant.

So much for getting into the shower first.  April heard the water, realizing that Illya was already in there.  Did he expect her to join him?  Should she?  No, that would be too... Forward wasn’t the right word, after all she’d gone way past forward last night.

No, she shouldn’t go in and join him, although it would be very pleasant... But no.  They were going to have to behave and act like responsible UNCLE agents on a mission.  Is this the type of thing Illya normally did while on a mission?  Perhaps she wasn’t special, just part of the routine.

“Oh dear!”

 “Oh dear what?”  April almost drpped her coffee cup.  In spite of her imaginings of what might happen, Illya walked over to the kitchen and started the process of making his cup of tea.  He seemed completely unaffected by everything, had he already forgotten what they did last night?  Was he going to be cavalier about it and just act as though it wasn’t a big deal. 

“Oh dear, I don’t think we have any milk.”  April was on the verge of being furious at how Illya was acting.  No flirting, no good morning kiss... no talking about it.

 “April... ?  Are you all right?”  He saw something in the way she was acting, a hesitancy bordering on ...

 “Are you sorry about what happened last night?”  That was it, he could see it in her eyes.  April was mirroring his own misgivings, so they might as well talk about it.

 “I understand.  We were carried away with our, ummm... passions, lust.  What should we call it?”  April shook her head, she was near tears now.  She adored this man, respected him as much as any in the Command.

 There was something very peaceful about this space they were calling home, with it’s openness, the light streaming in through old transom style windows.  The moment seemed in contrast to the ambiance of the room; a new type of tension had replaced the old sexual tangent.

 “Illya, did we make a mistake?”  That question was consuming the young woman, and she saw the same thing in the blue eyes as they scrutinized her for an answer.

 Finally he shook his head, smiling as he reached for her and embraced the slim shoulders he had caressed the night before.

 “I think you mean to question me as to whether or not we will be able to perform our jobs in light of our... how to say it? Indiscretion?  Should we call it that?”  April buried her head into the Russian’s shoulder, felt the hair of his chest tickling her cheek.  She sighed with relief even though they hadn’t answered the questions surrounding this situation. At least he understood her reticence at going forward; or she hoped he did.  April pushed away from him and looked at him, her expression serious.

 “So, do you think we should slow this down, just a little?  I mean... I don’t think I can carry this out and have my emotions so twisted up and ... Illya?”  He was struck by how pretty she was, standing in a ray of sunlight that sent sparks of red and gold glinting off of her hair.  In her way, April Dancer was an innocent, and now the remorse of his own self-indulgence sent pangs of guilt coursing through his being.  Illya should have known better, should have controlled things... been the senior agent.

 “Agent Dancer, I apologize for my impetuousness and for taking advantage of you last night.  It was my responsibility to in control and, to be honest. I lost all of that.  You are a great temptation to me April...’ Illya pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes, resisting the temptation now to kiss her.  She started to protest his taking the blame for their tryst, for the lovemaking.  She had led him into it, with months of yearning and flirting that even the most stoic of men would have eventually given in to.  Kuryakin was a man, after all, and he shouldn’t take the blame.  She didn’t get to express that, however.

 “Now, I suggest we get ourselves ready for the day. We have a meeting with Mulrooney at ...”

 “Nine o’clock.  We have a vehicle outside, courtesy of the London office.  Just give me twenty minutes and I’ll be ready...’ April started to walk towards the bathroom, turned to look again at the man she had given herself to only hours before.

 “Thank you.  For everything; last night was ... it was beautiful.  I don’t regret a thing, Illya.”  He nodded, a small smile on the handsome face.  She turned to go to her preparations, missed the sigh from the blond as the smile disappeared and the facade of a reserved agent returned.

 True to her word April was ready in twenty minutes, as was Illya.  They headed out the door to embark on the day’s business, slightly surprised to see a green Volkswagon van waiting for them.  One of the Section III agents from upstairs was leaning on it, keys in hand.

 “Allo mates!  Your chariot awaits.” Bryce McGivens was a tall, red-headed young man with a ready smile and a feigned Cockney accent.  At least with that greeting.  April quite liked him, and Illya accepted the keys with a smile for the aspiring agent; McGivens saw his future in the steps of men like Agent Kuryakin and his partner, Napoleon Solo.

 “Thank you Bryce.  Who, may I ask, chose this particular chariot?”  Illya was accustomed to German vehicles, but this one seemed somehow out of character for an aspiring designer.  Then again, perhaps it was exactly right; he needed to trust those who made such decisions.

 “Not a clue, Mr. Kuryakin.  And ‘ow are you, Miss Dancer?”  Bryce was certain he had a small crush on the lovely agent, as did most of his mates at headquarters.

 “Oh, I’m just peachy Bryce.  Thanks so much for delivering this for us.”  April and Illya climbed into the van, portfolio in hand and a moment for centering their minds on the appointment ahead of them.  If April was concerned about the night before with Illya, she was perhaps even more concerned that Daryl Mulrooney had made some very obvious passes at her on the dance floor.  There was no doubt in her mind that, in spite of the fact she was _married,_ at least as far as he was concerned, the way he had held her and whispered in her ear left the impression Daryl would willingly violate that if given any encouragement.  She wondered if Illya should know about it. 

Her thoughts were interrupted by Illya questioning her about the location of Mulrooney’s store front studio. 

“What? Oh, well just... ‘ she gave him directions as they went.  Illya was familiar with the streets of London, but it was nice to have a navigator who knew her way around as well.  As the green van  pulled up in front of the white building that was Monkey House, April decided to tell Illya her suspicions about Daryl’s attraction to her. 

“I think there’s something you ought to know... about Daryl.”  Illya paused to look at his companion, raised eyebrows entreating her to continue.

“I’m pretty sure he, um... well, he seems to be really into me.  He was quite flirtatious last night and made a few very forward remarks.  I don’t think he cares that we’re married, or supposed to be married... you know.”  She wasn’t sure what else to say.  It was either an opportunity or an impediment to the mission.

“You think that he would...’ Illya regretted what he was thinking.  He had savored every moment of the previous nights lovemaking, but if there was something here to exploit...

April was nodding her head.

“How do you feel about that?  I mean, if it will help us with this mission, are you willing to take him on?”

Illya wasn’t sure of the answer he wanted to hear.

“Umm... well, yes.  Whatever it takes, Illya.  Isn’t that why we’re here, to ferret out the THRUSH influence any way we can?”  April was back in agent mode, no longer putting her own needs and desires first.  That had happened and now it had to be over.  The mission was the thing.

“All right then, just follow his lead.  No need for him to think _our marriage_ is inviolate, I suppose we can give him some fuel to add to his fire.  So, first you follow my lead, and then you can follow his.  Yes?” 

“Yes.  And Illya...”  April’s heart was beating so fast she didn’t know if it was because of the expression in those blue eyes or the anticipation of what awaited them inside the studio of Monkey House.  Illya’s eyebrows shot up in a questioning way, giving her even more to contemplate; she loved that expression, it made her knees weak. 

“I meant everything last night just as it appeared to be.  But this other is ... business.”  Ah... Illya understood that only too well.  It appeared that Miss Dancer was indeed an UNCLE agent, to the core.

“I know.  Agents are expendable, and that means our emotions as well as our physical safety.  The mission comes first.”  He meant that, his life had always been about duty, as though to deter from that might incur some unknown catastrophe he dared not encounter; at least not yet. 

“Okay then.  Let’s see who’s a monkey’s UNCLE, shall we?” 

They both laughed at that, a nervous and self-conscious laugh that would have to last them longer than either of them thought.

    



End file.
